


Beyond Your Command

by di0brando



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (Comics), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Abraham Ford Lives, After negan kills alpha, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and some violence, Carl Grimes Lives, Glenn Rhee Lives, M/M, Negan is pining and eager to please, Not Canon Compliant, Protective Negan (Walking Dead), Rick is reluctant but negan is A Lot, some bits of canon taken from both the show and the comics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-07-20 03:13:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19985137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/di0brando/pseuds/di0brando
Summary: Negan is greedy; like a man starved, he'll take all of the freedom that's offered to him. It'd just be nice if the freedom package could include the Grimes family.





	1. Chapter 1

Negan loves his makeshift penthouse. It makes him feel like King Thick Dick of the prairie even though he knows that Rick outranks him in terms of overall authority. The watchtower that Rick has let him take claim of outranks his old, dingy jail cell by far; Negan might even argue that it beats his old loft at the Sanctuary. At least here he doesn’t have to worry about a bunch of limp-dick drones falling out of rank. He doesn’t have to worry about keeping ungrateful brats fed and warm. Here, he gets to put his fucking feet up and actually do something other than stare at the wall.

Rick is letting him read books, collect some furniture that he doesn’t need, and change his clothes every day. All he has to do is “keep watch” and “notify the guards of anything suspicious.” Big deal! If all he had to do to get these fine privileges was cut some bald chick’s head off, he would have done that years ago. Well, realistically, it’s not like Rick would have even humored this idea before recently, but right now, Negan isn’t looking a gift horse in the mouth. It’s not like he hates living in Alexandria—hell, he loves it. He’ll eat Alexandria’s ass; breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Because that’s what’s gotten him to this point. He _finally_ has some modicum of trust from Rick. Even just a hint of certified Grimes Trust is enough to get him high as a kite.

Negan also adores having some responsibility. He’s part of Rick’s Big Picture now, whether Rick likes it or not. It isn’t really a bad position to be in; at least now he can interact with other people, even if most of them look at him like he has two heads. 

“Do you seriously just sit up here all day?” Carl asks, lifting the hatch to Negan’s little bedroom without so much as a knock. Unapologetic, he clambers onto the floor and reaches behind him to help haul Judith up into the room. She puffs her cheeks out a bit at Negan but there’s no real heat in her eyes. She’s performative, at the very least. It's refreshing to see.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite parole officers!” Negan exclaims, spreading his arms out and stepping away from a window. He looks to Carl. “By the way, fuck yeah I do. I have explicitly super-fucking-important orders to stay up in my little tower.” Carl huffs a laugh and quirks an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah, but it’s not like anybody expects you to follow the rules.” Carl has gotten bigger over the years; he’s just about as tall as his old man. He has some lean muscle, but overall he’s still pretty lanky. The scar tissue around his eye has gotten less mean-looking, yet the eye patch remains. His hair is shorter now, as well. His little sister has also grown like a weed—a brown-eyed little thing with very strong opinions and a pretty good trigger finger. Negan isn’t sure how Rick feels about the latter.

“I’m fucking wounded. Why wouldn’t I follow the rules? To end up back in a six-by-six box? I got it _made_ up here, kid. I have a tiny grill!” Carl huffs again, clearly trying not to look amused, but it doesn’t go over very well. Negan is also ecstatic that he gets to see Rick Grimes’ cool as fuck kids on a regular basis. Even though sometimes Carl gets a hint of... _something_ behind his eye. It probably has to do with Abraham’s fucked up face and Glenn’s new picnic basket full of sensory issues. Also the miscellaneous collateral damage of a stupid fuckin’ resource war, but hey! Baby steps. Luckily, Judith doesn’t really have much to go on in terms of grudges, so she’s never looked at him with anything other than the raw honesty of a child.

“You tell your dad that you’re visiting Alexandria’s Most Wanted?” Negan asks, deciding to sit down on the floor across from the kids.

“No, we’re gardening,” Judith says easily, working on untying and retying a boot lace. Negan barks out a laugh.

“Oh, but _I’m_ the one that might be breaking the rules! Stick it to ‘em, kid. Don’t let the man get you down,” Negan praises. Carl rolls his eye, which brings Negan’s attention back to him. “What’s the deal, though? Up for a game of checkers? Uhh, help me watch out for literally nothing?” It’s not like Rick’s border patrols don’t see all the troublesome shit before it even reaches Negan’s range of view. Carl leans back on his hands and wags a foot back and forth lazily.

“Actually, I wanted to tell you that Judy’s going out on her first patrol,” Carl says casually, as if Negan doesn’t feel like back-flipping straight out the window.

“What?!” Negan exclaims, mouth unsure whether to morph into a shit-eating grin or a deep frown of disapproval. “That’s...really? Rick fuckin’ agreed to that?” Judith purses her lips and Carl grins.

“Barely. We’re only going out a mile, not even a dent in our patrol rings, but it’s just to give her a feeling of what it’s like without the wall.”

“I’m gonna use a compass!” Judith adds. From the tone of her voice, you’d think that she’d discovered the cure for the virus. It’s so endearing that Negan can’t help but smile.

“You are going to be _so_ fucking good at using a compass, Judith,” Negan tells her. Judith smiles and her cheeks turn a little pink. Carl reaches over and ruffles her hair, to which she grumbles and swats at him. “So who’s going? Just you two and your dad?” Negan wonders if anyone else will have the pleasure of watching Judith map out the old, cracked pavement beyond the gates.

“Yeah, thought it’d just be us three. Unless...you wanna come, too?” Carl asks. It’s so casual that Negan thinks he must be having a stroke. Negan points a finger at him as if to say ‘not funny.’

“Don’t yank my goddamn chain, here, kid!”

“I’m not!” Carl insists, leaning forward, “Judy wanted to see if you’d like to join us.”

“I did not,” Judith says, quiet and petulant, but she pointedly stares at a little dent in the floorboards.

“Carl, holy shit, I would love nothing more than to see Judith become a motherfucking _master_ of the compass, because I know she’s fucking _going_ to be,” Negan pauses just to watch Judith giggle, “But Alexandria’s finest mayor isn’t exactly letting me off my leash anytime soon, especially after he’s already given it so much slack.” Negan crosses his legs with an air of disappointed finality.

The hairs on Negan’s arms practically stand at the idea of going on a little field trip with the Grimes family. He’d get to watch Judith learn shit, and there is literally nothing more attractive than the look on Rick’s face whenever he sees his daughter take on the tricky trials of life. Whenever she makes paper airplanes or ties a good, solid knot, you’d never be able to guess that Rick used to eat motherfuckers’ throats for misbehaving. Not that Rick still wouldn’t eat a motherfucker’s throat; that beast is still tucked away somewhere under the graying beard and the rustic button-up shirts.

Grisly tendencies aside, Rick just looks like a one-armed ray of sunshine whenever he looks at his kids and makeshift siblings. Unfortunately for Negan, it seems like none of that sunshine ever comes his way. He gets the underlying beast whenever he catches Rick glancing at him. Well...save for the occasion in which Negan sees something _not_ beastly, but for the life of him, he has no idea what _those_ looks mean. Rick needs to cut out the vague eye contact, or Negan is going to get his fragile little hopes up.

“Dude, he’d totally say yes if Judith were to ask. But we didn’t want to bother asking him if you don’t want to go,” Carl is dropping all of this life-changing bullshit on Negan as if he’s just talking about the weather. It’s so condescending, but Negan won’t bitch about it.

“You’re so full of shit!” Negan is very pointedly _not_ bitching. Carl groans.

“And you have your head up your ass,” Carl insists, making Negan’s life all the more complicated, “You did right by us with the whole Alpha thing,” Carl says her name like there’s a bad taste in his mouth. At least he doesn’t seem to be crushing on her weird daughter anymore. “I don’t think Dad would really care if you talk to us. The tower thing is a formality, if I had to guess.” Negan narrows his eyes, considering. He rubs at his chin and looks at Carl.

“Are you giving me the inside fucking scoop? How am I even supposed to believe that? There is no way your dad is going to let me tag along on a fucking journey into the wilderness with some nobodies, much less his own goddamn _kids_.” Carl scoffs again. Clearly the kid has better things to do than try and shove Negan’s own hopes and dreams up his ass.

“Oh, come _on_ , Negan, for someone that wants to get some more privileges, you sure are throwing a fit about it. What’s he gonna do? Say no? Judith just wants to hang with you more often.” Hm. It’s not like Negan can just talk to her when she’s sitting on the front porch of her house anymore. And Carl seems extremely blasé about the whole thing. Suddenly, there’s a knock on Negan’s bedroom hatch door. All this talk of Rick and his parental paranoia almost makes him jump a bit at the noise.

“Carl, your dad is heading over in a minute,” A man’s voice comes through the floor. Carl and Judith are too crafty for their own good; they must have one of the regular gate guards covering for their little visit.

“Got it,” Carl answers before turning to Judith. “Judy, go stall for me, I’ll be down in a second.” Judith nods, gives Negan a smile paired with a wave, and heads back down to the watchtower’s main floor. Carl turns his attention back to Negan. Once Judith is definitively out of earshot, his gaze no longer has room for any exasperation.

“You're into Dad, right?” The question immediately makes Negan want to take to the fields and see how far he can get before a guard shoots him in the back.

“That is _way_ too fucking--”

“Like, it’s okay,” Carl waves a hand, like he didn’t just yank Negan’s stomach up into his throat. “It’s not a huge deal. There are worse things you could be doing. At least I think that means you don’t want to kill him anymore.” Negan’s eyes widen even further before he throws his hands up in defeat.

“Thank you very goddamn much, Dr. Phil! I can’t pay you for this session, but I’ll see you motherfucking next time!” Negan points at the door. “I just _love_ your visits, they make me feel complete.”

“Was that the bald guy on TV?” Christ, Negan feels old.

“Good _bye_ , Carl,” Negan rises to his feet. Carl has the nerve to laugh and get off the floor as well, reaching out to placate Negan with his hands, but he doesn’t quite work up the nerve to touch him.

“Negan, you’re a dick,” Carl says, point blank but with a smile. “And nobody is ever really going to forgive you for all the shit that you did. But I don’t really mind you so much nowadays. Bigger fish to fry, I guess, and the world goes ‘round in spite of you.” Negan sighs through his nose and shoves his hands in his pockets as Carl goes on. “I’m taking a stab here, but I think you care about my sister,” Carl shrugs one shoulder, “And that means something to me. It’d probably mean something to Dad, too, if he...y’know. Anyway. He’ll say yes to the Judy patrol thing, so I’ll see you tomorrow,” Carl dismisses himself and goes to open the hatch. Negan doesn’t notice how hard he was biting the inside of his cheek until he goes to speak again. He tastes a slight twinge of copper.

“...So you're saying I’ve got a chance?” Negan can’t help the shit-eating grin that widens across his face. He can just see Carl roll his eye one more time, even if he doesn’t look back on his way down the ladder.

“Good _bye_ , Negan.”

The hatch door shuts with a ‘thump,’ and Negan is left alone in his quiet little bedroom. His pseudo-penthouse. He pulls his hands out of his pockets and flexes them out of a need to fidget. Carl puts him on the spot better than most of Negan's peers ever could. He and his sister are too...analytical for their own good, and Negan _hates_ being analyzed. But then their conversation really hits him like a freight train, and it practically knocks him off his feet. Negan bends forward a bit at the knee and pumps his fist triumphantly in the air.

“Fuck yes!” He shouts. The smallest victories are so rewarding these days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This hit me out of nowhere today so here I am posting this at 2am! This fic is going to be fairly short, as far as I know, so stay tuned for Negan's Dad Behavior. And also his Dad Thirst. Thank you so much for reading this chapter, and comments mean the world to me! <3


	2. Chapter 2

Negan is ecstatic for what is sure to be the best day of his life since the fucking world ended, but he understands that he’ll have to play his cards right. If he can, in fact, join the Grimes family for Judith’s little expedition, he’ll be exposed to plentiful opportunities of the trust-building variety. But he also can’t dive for every single bread crumb that Rick may or may not give him. Negan is self-aware; he knows he’s the most obnoxious prick in the country. He knows he pokes Rick in small, sensitive places that nobody else can reach. He can get under Rick’s skin, but he can’t stay there for too long. At least not yet. He’s going to have to be a perfect angel today to ensure that at the very least, he can keep Judith and Carl’s secret visits. The last thing he needs is Rick locking the watchtower or—worst case scenario—throwing him back in that jail cell for good.

Negan is over the moon when he hears the afternoon shift guard call for him. Christ, he’s even put on his Sunday best; his leather jacket still fits him like a glove. Negan winks at himself in the cracked mirror on the wall before sliding down the hatch ladder with ease. He turns to face Rick and places his hands on his hips.

“Christmas has come early!” Negan beams. Of the three of his visitors, Rick is the only one that looks displeased. Judith is openly smiling at him, and Carl offers a tiny smirk that his father doesn’t see. Displeased might be the wrong word for Rick—he sincerely looks at Negan like he’s tracked mud all over his pristine kitchen floor. Negan could even argue that Rick looked _less_ irritated back when he’d visit him in his cell. Maybe Negan didn’t pick the best cologne. Time to play dumb. “Our fearless leader himself! To what do I owe the greatest fucking pleasure?”

“You’re getting some exercise. Let’s go,” Rick says flatly, already turning to exit the watchtower. When Rick’s back is turned, Negan gapes at Carl, who only shrugs.

“Exercise? What happened to house arrest?” Negan asks, trying not to imply anything with his tone. Judith sidles closer to him, but he doesn’t dare put his hand on her head—not while Rick is still stiff in the shoulders with wariness.

“You want more freedom? You still have to earn it. If you’re gonna be going outside the gates, you may as well go under my watch,” Rick answers plainly. It delights Negan to know that Judith is the one that asked if Negan could tag along; of _course_ Rick isn't going to mention that detail in the least. 

The four walk out of the tower, and Rick doesn’t even have to say anything before the guards are pushing Alexandria’s gate open for him. Negan takes a second to admire the subtle authority that comes off Rick in waves. Briefly, he imagines what Rick must have looked like with a clean shave and a police uniform back in the day. Not that the present view doesn't suit Negan just fine, as well. Despite Rick's minor limp and the missing hand, his body’s frame is sturdy and strong. The only holes in his defenses are the ones that Negan manages to pry open with a thumbtack. It’s rewarding as fuck to see Rick never so much as blink at a threat from strangers, whereas one too many dick jokes from Negan’s big, fat mouth will make him bristle. 

“--Negan.” Negan blinks and turns to Carl, who just looks at him like he’s been trying to talk to a sack of flour. “I said, ‘do you want a knife?’” Negan glances between Carl and Rick. Rick’s expression doesn’t really give anything away other than the fact that he’s expecting him to say ‘yes.’ Negan decides to test the waters as soon as they cross the threshold of the gates.

“What, a guy can’t have a gun?” Negan asks. Rick’s eyes narrow immediately, so Negan gets a better idea of what he’s working with.

“You know exactly why you can’t have a gun,” Rick says, his tone allowing no room for argument. Negan sighs and raises his hands, acquiescing.

“Alright, alright, I’ll take the goddamn toothpick,” Negan says. He takes the proffered knife from Carl and straps the holster to his belt.

“I also shouldn’t have to tell you what’ll happen if you even look at it funny,” Rick continues, still not taking his eyes off of Negan. It’s so intense that Negan sees macabre intent flash vaguely behind Rick’s eyes. It’s like a shark fin rising up out of the water; a warning for what lies beneath the surface. It implies that if Judith so much as gets a scraped knee, Rick will be up to his elbows in Negan’s guts. Negan has to beg his dick not to harden at the idea. In fact, he just has to lock that little fantasy away where no one will ever find it.

“You’ll beat me to death with one of my legs, I got it!” Negan winks and gives Rick the ‘okay’ symbol with his hand. Rick only stares at him for a few seconds before he begins the trek away from the town perimeter. Carl shakes his head, looking exasperated. When Rick isn’t looking, Negan shoves the kid in the shoulder. Carl laughs and when Rick looks back, he disguises it as a cough.

About twenty minutes into their makeshift journey, Negan finds himself having a quiet conversation with Carl. They’re a few yards behind Rick and Judith, who have stopped at a very small, run-down house. Rick is walking her through the practicality of clearing a place like this of potential threats. It’s surreal, but also very endearing.

“Do you have any goddamn idea how good of a leader that kid is gonna be? She’s gonna be president,” Negan whispers to Carl.

“Negan, she’s not going to be president,” Carl huffs, crossing his arms. Even still, he can’t take his eyes off his little sister.

“She’s got that Grimes blood. She’s going to talk and people are going to listen whether they want to or not,” Negan pauses and looks at Carl, studying his expression, “You’ve got that, too, y’know.” That manages to take Carl’s attention away from Judith. He gets a bemused crease in his brow.

“I’m serious as can fucking be,” Negan nods, “If the stars had been aligned in just the right way, you could’ve killed me years ago and taken over the Sanctuary for yourself. Don’t argue with me that you don’t have it _in_ you; you know better than that,” Negan smirks knowingly. Carl’s eye narrows, and Negan knows that it means he agrees with the dirty secret. Like his father, Carl also has a beast caged in his ribs.

“...I guess I could’ve. But then you wouldn’t be here to drool over my dad,” Carl deadpans after a beat. The delivery of it makes Negan throw his head back and laugh. Rick and Judith both look over at them, but surprisingly, Rick doesn’t reprimand them for the volume. He just lets his eyes linger on Negan for an extra second before guiding Judith over to a broken window.

“You’re awfully confident in your cutesy fucking assessments,” Negan whispers, suddenly all too curious, “So tell me—where, exactly, are you going with this?” Negan feigns a gasp and covers his mouth with a gloved hand, “Should I slip him a note? ‘Do you like me? Yes or no?’” Carl makes a gagging noise and smacks Negan’s hand away from his face.

“Don’t get your hopes up,” says Carl, “He tolerates you.” Carl watches Rick point out something in the grass as Judith pays rapt attention. Negan considers his next options and decides that if he’s going to pull a card from his sleeve, he may as well with Carl. Carl seems to get him.

“Do you _want_ him to tolerate me?” Negan asks. When Carl’s expression becomes confused, Negan elaborates. “Kid, I’m not gonna fuckin’ hit on your dad if it’s gonna give you one more reason to attend therapy. I don’t exactly have to elaborate here. You know all the bullshit that was at stake.” And still is at stake, Negan reminds himself. Rick has built this town from the ground up; all he had to start out with were empty houses and Alexandria locals with even emptier heads. Negan is _impressed_ with everything that Rick has managed to do. He wasn’t going to throw a wrench in Rick’s idyllic farm life back when he infiltrated the Whisperers, and he isn’t going to do that now. Case in point; he _likes_ the Grimes family.

“I _want_ him to stop acting like you’re lit dynamite,” Carl says after a moment of consideration. Negan can hear hints of the boy’s father in his voice. It’s like he’s calculating the best possible outcome of some fairly simple dialogue; he already has plan B and plan C at the ready if he doesn’t like where it’s going. “You’re an asset. And I know him, so I can tell that he doesn’t like it when people aren’t reaching their full potential. If you’re going to be dynamite, he may as well be the one telling you where to explode.” Carl explains. Negan can’t help but chuckle.

“That’s all I am, huh? Another pair of working hands back at the funny farm?”

“Everyone in Alexandria means something to my dad,” Carl says easily, “He just doesn’t want to _let_ you mean something.” Negan’s eyes light up, but he tries not to let his expression betray him. He lets a deliberately crafty smirk widen across his face. He leans into Carl’s space, almost looming over his shoulder. The larger than life charisma and manipulation tactics are like second nature for him. It's always easy as fuck to slide back into.

“So what happens if I get on his good side? What happens if he lets his guard down, and I bleed him for locking me up for so long? It’d be a shame if the big bad wolf finally got to blow your house down, kid,” Negan whispers. This time, it’s Carl’s turn to laugh out loud, and it catches Negan by surprise. He leans back as Carl shakes his head.

“That’s not gonna happen,” Carl says; he believes it so firmly that it’s almost like he’s telling Negan that the sky is blue. Negan has the good sense to look a little bewildered.

“And what the fuck makes you think so, champ?” Negan asks once he regains his ability to speak.

“Because you’ve been pacified,” Carl replies, smiling directly at Negan with a particular glint in his eye. “You’re like Ezekiel’s old tiger at this point, but you keep acting like you aren’t—just to make sure that none of our people pay too much attention to you.” Carl leaves it at that. He begins to walk off like the cat that got the canary, and Negan has yet to twist his mouth into something other than a baffled frown. Carl has his fucking number, and he’s too fucking smart, and it _sucks._ At least if Carl _had_ killed him and taken over the Sanctuary, Negan wouldn’t be here getting reamed by two kids and their dad, who is now just the right amount of sweaty.

“Are you just going to stand there? We’re going inside,” Rick calls over, albeit not sounding as impatient as he could be.

Negan hasn’t been _pacified_ , thank you very much. Which is exactly why he heads over to the shitty, abandoned little house when Rick waves a hand. Carl smirks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments and kudos so far, I appreciate all of them! :3  
> Just a heads up--I don't think chapter three will be up until after sunday! <3


	3. Chapter 3

The house is pretty bare bones since it isn’t very far from Alexandria; most of its furniture and valuable items were taken years ago during the very first group runs. However, it still has a sofa and some chairs in the living room. It must be a courtesy for people traveling between settlements—it may even be a place for Daryl and the other regular hunters to rest. Regardless, Rick walks Judith through the age-old process of checking rooms and drawers. Rick’s main group has it down to an art by now; it’s no wonder that they rarely have scouting casualties outside of Alexandria.

It’s well past noon at this point, and Negan has been fairly pleased with their hike thus far. He hasn’t exactly made Rick feel _content_ , but he hasn’t pissed him off, either. Negan’s going to keep playing it safe. He figures that he wins so long as he doesn’t specifically _lose_. Carl’s words have given him something to think about.; the idea that Rick may actually want to include Negan in his precious fold is already promising. The ‘killing Alpha’ thing boosted him into this semi-safe zone of reluctant approval, so now he just needs to find some other grand declaration that’ll make Rick soften up. Easy. Piece of fucking cake. Although, it’s hard to plan that kind of serious shit while Judith is being this cute.

“How’s it going, Judy?” Negan asks quietly. He doesn’t want Rick catching the nickname, even though he’s currently outside checking in with one of the regular patrol guards. Negan crouches on the dingy carpet to meet Judith at eye level. “Your old man teaching you anything new?” She fidgets with one of her sleeves and smiles at him.

“I’ve been out here before...it still feels kind of weird,” She confesses. Negan knows that this isn’t necessarily her first time outside of town—she’s been to Hilltop several times, and has joined groups on small-radius runs, but Rick hasn’t humored the idea of her being isolated until now. She has enough physical capability at this age to handle a bit more danger. She should at least know what to do if she ever… Negan stops that train of thought; he likes to hope that Judith won’t end up in a scared and lonely position anytime soon.

“I think you’re doing a great job,” Negan assures her, “That brain of yours is like a sponge!” Judith giggles as she sits down and rummages through her little backpack. She pulls out a notebook.

“Aunt Carol told me that I should write about things that I’ve been doing,” Judith says, flipping to a blank page. “I want to write about our hike.” Her enthusiasm is contagious, and Negan sits down beside her. When she pulls out a dull, fat pencil, she frowns.

“I didn’t bring my sharpener…I guess it broke inside my bag,” She seems disappointed that she won’t be able to get much done with a nub of graphite, so Negan pulls out the knife that Carl gave him and holds out his hand. Without question, Judith hands him her pencil. Negan also appreciates that Carl doesn’t seem concerned about the knife—he continues to lounge on the faded sofa and whittle away at a block of wood. The kid is getting pretty good at those artsy carvings of his.

Negan begins to sharpen Judith’s pencil with the edge of his blade. He goes slowly so that she can watch, since she’s clearly interested.

“I’m not gonna let you try this today, but if you’re careful, you can always make your pencil as good as new,” Negan instructs softly, letting the wispy shavings fall onto his pants leg. Judith bites her lip and giggles when she gets her pencil back.

“Thank you, Negan,” She tells him, and his heart skips a pitiful fucking beat. Over a year ago, she wouldn’t really refer to him by any name, and recently she’d taken to calling him ‘Mister Negan.’ This new development is...kinder than Negan may deserve. It’s really fucking cute. Negan hopes that nobody will ask him to move mountains for this kid, because he can’t guarantee that he’d say ‘no.’

“I can draw a horse, if you wanna see,” Judith says, suddenly very focused on outlining a round shape.

“Holy shit, you are so good at drawing. I would love to see a horse,” Negan exaggerates a little gasp, leaning over her shoulder to watch her add hooves. She’s at the age where her movements are coordinated. And she must draw fairly often—her lines are straight, and she adds more detail than your average kid would care to.

“...Something doesn’t look right,” Judith says after a couple minutes. Negan makes a big deal out of scratching his beard and tilting her notebook back and forth.

“Hmm,” Negan mumbles. Without thinking about it, he wraps an arm around Judith so he can guide her pencil to the horse’s face. “It could use a little bump right here for the nose, I think,” He smiles when that seems to solve all of her problems. She thanks him again for his valuable assistance, and it makes Negan feel like he hasn’t done something so important in a while. At least beyond keeping watch at the town gates.

He’s so caught up in Judith’s art that he has to make himself not look up when he realizes that Rick is watching him from the front door. He can see him standing out of the corner of his eye, but he doesn’t know how long he’s been watching him interact with Judith. The tone of the room shifts as he becomes aware that Carl and Rick may have been exchanging glances. Negan maintains his facade and pretends not to notice; instead, he focuses on Judith and her brief ramblings until someone else breaks the tension. Rick is the one to do so.

“What are you up to, Judy?” Rick asks, his voice calmer than Negan expected it to be. It doesn’t even sound forced or fake. He just sounds...neutral. Rick adjusts his grip on his cane and makes his way further into the living room. Negan decides that now’s a good time to look up and acknowledge Rick.

“Negan’s helping me draw,” Judith says easily, not looking up from her work.

“Is that so?” Rick asks, maintaining eye contact with Negan. Negan has no idea what to make of it, but Rick looks like he pointedly _isn’t_ sizing him up. Credit where it’s due; Rick just seems...okay with the whole thing. Maybe not _ecstatic_ , but even just a year ago, he would have had a very different reaction. Negan knows that in his bones. “Well,” Rick clears his throat, “Pack up in another minute, alright? We’re gonna go a bit further out before sunset.”

“Okay,” Judith sing-songs. Negan gets up to collect himself, and if Rick notices him putting the knife back in its holster, he doesn’t say anything about it.

–

“You’re just dying to say something,” Carl murmurs. He and Rick walk side-by-side, Carl more than willing to keep pace with his dad’s limp. Negan and Judith are a short distance ahead, chatting amicably. Rick shoots his son a look.

“Carl,” Rick tries.

“He’s just a _guy_ ,” Carl cuts his dad off, though perhaps he doesn’t mean to.

“Just a guy?” Rick hisses, his brows creasing with frustration. “You wanna tell that to Glenn and Abraham?” He seems to realize that it’s a low blow immediately. He winces but doesn’t apologize when Carl waves it off.

“Dad, I know what you mean. If we’d lost them, I don’t know that I’d be having this conversation,” Carl pauses before continuing. “But we’ve all kind of...been in his shoes, right? Doing awful things to people as long as we can justify it?” When Rick opens his mouth, Carl holds up a hand. “I’m _not_ saying I forgive him.”

“Then what _are_ you saying?” Rick asks. Carl shrugs.

“You could cut him some slack. I think you want to; it’d be one less thing stressing you out.”

“I’ve already cut him some slack—I did just fifteen minutes ago when I found him with Judith. With his knife out. Maybe you’re giving him too _much_ credit.” Rick counters. Carl, without further ado, pulls his pistol from its holster and aims it at Negan’s back. Negan is none the wiser—currently snickering at something Judith is doing.

“If you can honestly tell me that you think he’d hurt Judith, I’ll shoot him right now.” Carl offers. Rick somewhat blanches, missing a step and having to correct himself with his cane. Carl meets his gaze, and Rick finds no hint of a joke there. “If your gut tells you that he’ll turn on her, then I’ll trust you,” Carl whispers. White noise roars in Rick’s ears. Faintly, over the static, he can hear Negan laugh again. His eyes wander up to watch Judith point at something. Negan’s broad shoulders move with his amusement. His calloused hands gesture along with some tale he strings along for Judy. Rick swallows.

“...Put it away,” Rick says behind gritted teeth. Carl doesn’t act smarmy or knowing. He simply does as he’s told and continues to walk with his dad. Rick wipes a sweaty palm on his jeans. Killing Negan wouldn’t prove anything to Alexandria. It wouldn’t prove anything to him, either.

–

Negan thinks that it’s kind of funny how much bullshit Judith Grimes can manage to rope you into. A one-mile hike turned into a very thorough two-mile adventure. Rick’s leg hasn’t been particularly bad today, and neither has his patience for Negan, so he humored the others’ willingness to keep going after a small lunch. They’ll be able to make it back to Alexandria before the sun goes down, and they’re still well within regular patrol ranges. Walkers only shamble through once in a blue moon, especially now that Eugene’s group has herd wrangling down to a crude art.

Rick’s paranoia brought on by the Whisperers hasn’t completely disappeared yet, but he seems comfortable enough with the land and their status. He also knows this run-down neighborhood like the back of his hand. And speaking of Rick, Negan is pretty happy with how the day’s gone. Rick has let him converse with Carl and Judith without much of a complaint, and Negan could have sworn he heard Rick chuckle at a joke he made earlier. He can’t prove that it happened, but Negan wants to get his hopes up and pretend it did.

Now that he thinks about it, Negan really feels _good._ He feels lighter than he has in a while. He feels like this is what he _should_ be doing; hanging out with the Grimes family without any fucking grief. No worries, no conflict...just Judith’s big grin, Carl’s presumptuous little attitude, and Rick’s beautiful jaw line. Maybe this could become a regular thing. Maybe he won’t have to meet with the kids in secret anymore. Maybe if he were to offer to make some bacon and eggs for dinner, Rick wouldn’t flat out say ‘fuck you.’ He could start helping out with the gardening, or he could assist the construction teams when the next festival rolls around.

Negan has to remind himself that he’s supposed to be playing it safe—he can’t tug too hard on his leash, wanting free reign, only for Rick to shorten its length entirely. He has to cut this shit out before he starts wondering what Rick’s ring size is. It’d all be too good to be true, and at this point, Negan is used to a life filled with mediocre highs and extremely disappointing lows. He just has to grin and shuffle wherever the Grimes’ tide pulls him.

“Our hunters have traps set up in that patch of trees over there,” Rick nods over to a small copse behind the last houses on the street. “Carl knows where they are, if you want to help check them. If we’re lucky, we could bring back rabbits for dinner,” Rick instructs. He says it so casually that Negan counts it as a win. It means that there’s at least some trust at play here.

“You got it, Mayor!” Negan gives him a phony salute and meanders off with Carl, leaving Rick and Judith sitting on the sidewalk. As they walk away, he can hear Rick telling her about rabbit traps.

“Full disclosure, I aimed my gun at you earlier,” Carl tells him as soon as they pass one of the border houses. If Negan were drinking from his canteen, he’d have spit out his water.

“What the fucking shit, when?! Where the fuck was I during this?” Negan exclaims. Carl snorts.

“Directly in front of me. Way to observe your surroundings.”

“Shit, why should I be observant? I thought we were building trust here!”

“We are, man, that’s why I told you,” Carl says, like Negan’s three steps behind in this conversation. Negan sure feels like he is. “And as it turns out, Dad doesn’t mind you being around Judith.” Negan is now six steps behind, at least. His eyes widen.

“Wait, really?” Negan rushes in front of Carl and begins to walk backwards, pointing his finger at him. “Hold the goddamn phone, you really are playing Dr. Phil! Are you airing the fucking gossip live?” Carl laughs, and for a second, it makes him sound younger than he is.

“I still don’t know who that is!” Carl shoves at Negan, who ruffles his hair in turn. Just because he knows Carl hates it.

“Kid, I appreciate the assist, but you’ve gotta let me work on this shit on my own. I mean, two grown men have gotta be able to communicate with their fuckin’ words if they’re not going to with some fists, you feel me?” Negan shoves his tongue in his cheek with a crude look on his face. “But for posterity’s sake, what exactly did Rick say--”

Negan’s perfect day is cut short as soon as he hears two succinct gunshots paired with Judith’s screaming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, you thought this was all fluff?? ...I'm sorry. 
> 
> Thank you guys for the nice comments and kudos, I really appreciate every single one :3


	4. Chapter 4

Negan is out of the woods before he even fully registers that his boots are kicking up dirt. The panic that he feels almost makes him light-headed. He and Carl sprint back to the other side of the street once they re-enter the neighborhood, and Carl has his gun drawn immediately. Red in the face, he aims at someone in the middle of dragging Rick’s limp form across the grass. Negan’s eyes dart around, looking for Judith, and he can’t seem to convince himself that she’s nowhere to be seen. The fact of the matter; however, is that she’s no longer here with Rick.

“Fucking put him down!” Carl yells, a fury in his voice that Negan hasn’t heard since _he_ was the one staring down the barrel of his gun. “Don’t make me tell you twice!” Carl spits, advancing on the stranger. As he and Negan get closer, it becomes clear that this person is one of the last Whisperers.

The Whisperer drops Rick, who hits the ground with a ‘thud.’ Negan takes it upon himself to rush forward, grabbing the Whisperer by his coat and slamming him into the wall of an adjacent house. Negan feels secure in his grip, so he glances over his shoulder to see Carl checking his father’s pulse with a wide eye. He doesn’t have any sort of visceral reaction, so it’s safe for Negan to assume that Rick is fine, save for a potential concussion. With that kind of confirmation, the two quickly switch gears.

“Where’s my sister?!” Carl asks, teeth chattering from adrenaline and anxiety. His eyes don’t waver from the Whisperer in Negan’s grasp. When Negan doesn’t get an immediate reply, he pulls out his knife and plunges it into the Whisperer’s shoulder without precedent. There’s a muffled cry of pain, and he becomes even more slack. Negan lets him fall to the ground in a pitiful heap.

“Did you take the kid?!” Negan demands an answer, kicking the Whisperer in the ribs. “Did you take the fucking kid?” Negan seethes, kneeling down to straddle the freak. Carl begins to pace, running his hands back through his hair. Sweat runs down his face, mingling with tears of distress.

“The longer you take to answer, the more time I’m gonna fucking spend sawing your goddamn toes off!” Negan shouts. It’s surreal. It feels like he’s been tossed into a tub of ice water. He was having _such_ a perfect day. He would trade all of it away so long as he could wake up right now, only to find that this is just a bad dream. It’s like he’s caught in the middle of a cheap fucking plot twist; there were no warnings and no time to prepare. A split second of absence and a sorry excuse for a perimeter check may have just cost him _everything._

“We linger,” The Whisperer coughs, “Some still remain. Alpha and Beta didn’t die in--”

Before he can think better of it, Negan jams his blade down into the Whisperer’s throat. Blood gushes out in a torrent, coating his hands, but he doesn’t care. He ignores the desperate croaking. He doesn’t realize he’s panting through gritted teeth until Carl shouts at him.

“Negan, that’s too fucking soon!” Carl drops to his knees and runs his hands through his hair again. “We have no idea where she is! Oh my God, Judith,” Carl is on the verge of hysterics. Despite the noise roaring in Negan’s ears, he feels the need to try and soothe Carl’s rising tide. He staggers forward and grabs Carl’s arms, smearing blood on his sleeves without meaning to.

“Hey, hey, we can find her. We’re gonna fucking find her, kid, you just have to stick with me here, okay? Fucking pull it together,” Negan’s a hypocrite for saying as much. He feels like he’s going to fucking throw up. He has to try and be rational about this. He swallows past the lump in his throat and glances at Rick’s still body. He isn’t bleeding from anywhere, so that’s a good sign. But Negan knows he heard gunshots before they got here.

The Whisperers don’t use guns, and it doesn’t seem like Rick even managed to draw his pistol before he was knocked out. This means that Judith either managed to shoot a Whisperer, or just fired SOS shots. Negan stands after a brief pause and looks around. They’ve missed something—they’re being too erratic about this. Lo and behold, as soon as Negan makes himself focus, he sees spots of blood in the grass. Some are larger than others, but the evidence assures Negan that someone was wounded before taking off into the woods. Judith wouldn’t have been shot, and the remaining Whisperer was trying to take Rick, so Negan thinks it’s safe to assume that Judith isn’t dead. But that may not be true but for so long.

When Negan turns back around to face Carl, he’s somewhat taken aback by the raw honesty on his face. Carl looks younger than he has in years; a certain degree of self-flagellation is showing in the angle of his shoulders. He looks tired, and scared, and helpless to a degree, even though he’s one of the most capable people Negan knows. The idea of Judith being in danger has reduced him to a lower level of functionality. Carl is clutching at his dad’s sleeve without realizing that he’s doing so. Negan is about to speak when the rush of hooves approaches the scene.

Two of Rick’s regular patrolmen have apparently shown up to check on the commotion, and they’re both visibly shocked by Rick’s current state.

“Mr. Grimes!” One of the men exclaims, and Negan isn’t sure if he’s referring to Carl or acknowledging Rick’s body. The other guard gives Negan an accusatory glance, as if he’s the reason why Rick is out like a light, but Negan refuses to humor it. Carl suddenly rises to his feet, and a brief look of understanding flashes across his face.

“Negan, we can’t stay here,” Carl says, “Dad has to see a doctor.” Negan wipes at his forehead with the back of his hand and curses to himself when he realizes that he’s only added blood to the sweat.

“Well, shit, we can’t just _leave_ , we have to try to get to Judith before the trail goes fuckin’ cold!” Negan protests. Carl shakes his head and holds out his gun for Negan to take.

“ _We_ can’t stay here.” Carl repeats. There’s a slow pause as realization dawns on Negan. His eyes dart around, taking in Carl’s serious gaze for all that it’s worth.

“You’re not...” Negan swallows, “You’re not gonna get Daryl? Michonne? You’re not fucking going to come and--”

“ _Negan_ ,” Carl snaps, insisting that Negan take his pistol with a stiff gesture of his arm. His eyes are glassy with tears. “Negan, please.” He whispers hoarsely. “I need you to do this.” Negan and Carl stare at each other intently as the guards wait, wary of the tension. Negan sees the offered gun for what it is—an explicit ‘I trust you.’ After another second or two of debate, he reaches out and takes Carl’s pistol. Carl’s eyes narrow minutely.

“I’m letting you off your leash.”

“A wild dog could hurt a lot of people, kid,” Negan says, giving him one last chance to change his mind. Carl doesn’t flinch—he takes to hauling his dad off the ground with the help of a guard.

“That’s what I’m counting on,” Carl says. A mutual understanding passes between the two of them before Rick is lifted up onto a horse. Once Carl joins the other patrolman in his saddle, reigns are snapped and the horses go racing back towards Alexandria. This leaves Negan stranded outside the town boundaries once more. It’s technically freedom, though now he no longer has any desire to break free from Rick Grimes and his rejuvenated little town. Negan yanks his knife out of the Whisperer’s throat and sticks it into his skull for good measure. He wipes it clean on the dead bastard’s shirt and begins his trek into the forest, following the sporadic trail of blood.

Not too long ago, Negan told Alpha that he was a dead soul. A numb and vile, shriveled up thing stuck inside a tall, handsome body. That was true for a very long time; he had nothing left in him. He was put on this reborn patch of land to keep a group of rejects alive at the Sanctuary. That was it. He carried out the task with precision and consistency, and he did try to have fun along the way, even though it never really amounted to anything.

Nothing truly made him angry, or sad, or happy. He felt hunger and pain and thirst but didn’t actually _care_ one way or the other. All the worth in him died with Lucille. That is, until Lucille died _again_. It seems that something came over Negan when he buried that splintered baseball bat. A sense of clarity that was paired with the ability to at least _try_ and move on and spice life up a little. Negan wasn’t totally convinced that he was genuinely feeling things again until now—until _just_ now.

The pain in his stomach is real, and it isn’t because he’s hungry. It’s because he’s upset. It’s because he’s furious and worried and wracked with guilt. Because Judith is a pure and beautiful soul; she’s kind in a way that only a Grimes kid could be, and she’s as sharp as a tack. There’s no doubt that she’ll bite and kick at the fuckers that took her and give them hell for as long as she can, but the point is that she shouldn’t _have_ to. It isn’t her fault that the adults let their guard down in a designated ‘safe zone,’ despite the fact that no one is ever really safe out here.

And it isn’t Rick’s fault that he isn’t in peak fighting shape anymore. It isn’t his fault that some pre-Negan asshole cut off his hand, and it’s _Negan’s_ fault that Rick can’t sprint anymore. And Negan can’t help but feel that he should have decapitated more motherfuckers back when Alpha was still kicking around. Can’t help but feel like he should have dedicated some effort to making sure that no rogues would continue some pathetic attempts at retaliation.

Negan inhales deeply and the air is different—sharper. It’ll rain soon. Too much longer and he could lose this trail. His hand clenches around the handle of his knife, and a part of him briefly wishes that he still had Lucille to help him through this. He’d still like to see her gnarly, metal teeth rip into some Whisperer intestines, but the knife will have to do for now.

After a few minutes of dedicated searching, Negan finds a deep footprint in the dirt, probably marking the onset of a limp. He hopes that Judy got one of those motherfuckers in the leg. Negan’s mouth curls up into a gross, eager smirk. He thinks of Rick; pretty, blue eyes and graying, curly hair. He thinks about how good it would feel to just sit at the dinner table with him and those kids. He thinks about how the Grimes’ have hands wrapped around his throat, and about how it doesn’t feel bad at all. They could press and press until he stops breathing, and he’d be pretty okay with it. As it turns out, Rick Grimes is no longer just an amusing pastime.

Rick Grimes is gripping Negan’s rib cage, and he’s urging him forward—deeper and deeper into the woods. When thunder rumbles in the distance and the sun settles down behind the trees, Negan begins to whistle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Negan is going hunting! 
> 
> And once again, thank you guys for the kudos, etc. Comments make my day!!


	5. Chapter 5

Lucille had a laugh that could be heard across the neighborhood. She was a comedian, really. An absolute riot. She had a rare ability that allowed her to captivate an entire room of guests and reel them in for a killer punchline. A night with Lucille guaranteed choking on drinks and doubling over in your chair. Negan always figured it was a shame that she settled for him. And it’s not like she _didn’t_ settle for him, even if what they had together was love. Negan—to this day—relies on dick jokes and nitty-gritty visuals. There’s no real point to any of it. He’s lacking in clever anecdotes and the flair of suspense.

Negan has only ever relied on a shock factor to startle laughter out of people. He always took Lucille by surprise just by using one too many dirty words. Not that he _didn’t_ make her laugh; hell, sometimes he made her laugh until tears were streaming down her face. But Negan is no stand-up comedian, and ever since the world went to hell in a hand basket, nobody in the nearby communities has found him amusing. He kind of misses being able to make other people happy, if he’s being honest with himself. The only people that he can wrestle a snort out of are Carl and Judith. Rick’s been a tough nut to crack.

Since he can only remember what Lucille’s laughter sounds like in his dreams, he really wants to be able to make Rick double-take. Just really sock it to him. For once, Negan wants Rick to throw his head back and cackle without any hang-ups, and _he_ wants to be the cause of it. So desperately, he wants Rick to look at him with something other than reluctant tolerance. God-fucking- _damn_ , he wants Rick to be happy. For some reason. Negan doesn’t recall how he got to this point; he just woke up in a fucking ditch one morning and _knew_ that Rick put him there—figuratively speaking.

Negan figures that if anybody deserves to be happy and stay happy for more than five minutes, it’s Rick fucking Grimes. That tough motherfucker should have people lined up for miles, ready to try and impress him with goddamn magic tricks and shitty one-liners. People should be _paying_ to see Rick Grimes smile. They should all be kneeling in front of him every single day, thanking him for being the one and only sensible, kind, and humane person left on this rock. It’s awful. Negan really is the _only_ one that fucking gets how saintly and handsome Rick goddamn Grimes is. But on the bright side; his singular enlightenment just means that he doesn’t have to share Rick with anyone else. His kids and his little makeshift family aside, of course. But they don’t count, because as far as Negan knows, Daryl and company aren’t quite as eager to get their hands in Rick’s pants as he is.

It surprisingly isn’t difficult to take his mind off Rick’s pants; he has more important things to worry about—like the oncoming storm, the dwindling daylight, and Judith. Oh, Judith. He’s wrapped around her finger, too, there’s no doubt about it. He’s going to castrate whatever sorry, tiny-cocked motherfuckers that had the bright idea of taking her away from her dad. Negan doesn’t care if there are two, four, or fifty offenders, because they’re all going to end up tied to logs as walker brunch.

Negan’s followed the winding trail of blood and footprints through the forest, sometimes losing track of it only to find its continuation not far away. There’s no telling how coordinated this hare-brained scheme was, but Negan isn’t counting more than four pairs of tracks. Just some sloppy, bullshit plan to teach Rick a lesson or whatever the literal fuck.

Negan finally comes across some grouped together footprints, all jammed on top of each other. It seems like the Whisperers didn’t plan on getting very far, regardless of whether or not they were successful in their kidnapping. Negan crouches down behind a patch of bushes and peers out between gaps in the leaves. There’s a run-down excuse for a cabin at the bottom of a shallow hill, just beyond the tree line. Despite the waning light, Negan can see at least one Whisperer shouldering their way in through the front door while looking around sporadically.

“Yeah, dickhead, you _are_ being followed,” Negan grins to himself. Unfortunately, he can’t see Judith, but he figures that not many people can even fit in that shack. It’s gotta be four Whisperers...maybe five. Hopefully Judith is playing it safe and keeping quiet—if they’ve knocked her out, too, Negan is going to spend a lot of time processing rancid meat. Nevertheless, it’s showtime.

It’s an easy stroll to the cabin. Like a gentleman, he knocks on the door politely; it’s wrenched open immediately, and two Whisperers make themselves known in the frame. They look at him like he’s lost his mind, but that’s not something he’s unused to. Negan gives them a wide smile with pearly white teeth and lazily saunters by them, nudging one out of the way as he enters the cabin. His bravado throws them off effectively, as they have no idea what to do other than gawk at each other and glare at him.

Lo and behold, Judith is inside the cabin with a gag stuffed in her mouth. Like Negan assumed, there are two more Whisperers standing on either side of her. She doesn’t seem to be bleeding, but she has a bruised eye. The sight makes Negan’s blood pressure spike.

“You have some balls, shoving your way in here,” the only woman in the group speaks. She holds a knife up to Judith’s throat. Judith’s brow creases with fear, but her eyes stay locked on Negan. All he can do is smile at her. “But you move any further, and her head is coming off.” The woman’s voice is quiet and fierce, but Negan has heard more impressive threats from more impressive people.

“You’re not gonna do that,” Negan says easily. The other two Whisperers shut the door behind him and box him in. There’s no real room to maneuver. The woman tilts her head.

“Because you’re scared,” Negan relishes in his own presence; he’s the largest person in the room, and sometimes that in and of itself has advantages. “Some grinning motherfucker makes himself at home without a care in the world, doesn’t give a fuck about your little plan or your backstory. Gotta figure he has a pretty big goddamn dick.” The woman narrows her eyes.

“You’re bluffing,” She says, “Why come here if not for the girl? It matters if she lives or not, and you’re outnumbered. So I don’t think I’ll be taking orders from you.” Negan lifts his hands in surrender.

“Me? I’m just the messenger. Delivering orders from Rick Grimes himself,” Negan concedes. He knows that there’s no way they saw whether or not Rick remained unconscious. “Because you and your fugly friends aren’t so great at covering your tracks, and it didn’t take us long to get a hunting crew. And so when I fuckin’ promise you that we’ve got men in the woods waiting to light this little matchbox up if the kid and I don’t walk out of here...Well...” The cabin goes dark all at once as the sun finally sets beyond the trees. Raindrops begin to patter on the roof.

“He’s bluffing,” one of the men says immediately.

“Am I? Fuckin’ try me,” Negan counters, solid in both form and voice. “I know you dickheads don’t care about _civility_ anymore, but I’d bet my bottom dollar that at least one of you wants to live to see another day. So the question is; which one of you wants to be a smart fucking linchpin, pull up your fucking big kid pants, and do some negotiating?” There’s a beat of silence as the Whisperers exchange looks with one another. Judith doesn’t so much as whimper, but the anxiety is still in her eyes.

“We want Rick Grimes,” The woman speaks after a moment. Negan barks out a quick laugh.

“Sweetheart, get in fucking _line_! Everyone from here to Georgia wants a piece of the pie. But I can tell you mean business by the whole ‘knock him out and drag him here’ shebang, so how about we go out there in the goddamn rain and talk about what we _all_ want.”

“Fine,” the woman sneers, shoving Judith forward by the back of her neck, “You two out first. If your people try anything, she’s as good as dead.” Negan smiles, all teeth, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. All he can think about is shoving his thumbs through her eyeballs for touching Judith. Judith, brave as she is, barely flinches. She just glares with irritation and huddles close to Negan, who rests a hand on her back as the Whisperers crowd them out the front door and into the field. The rain has Negan soaking in seconds; his hair begins to stick to his face, and his socks are going to be hell to walk back home in.

“Alright, let me call the fuckin’ council to order. Christ, couldn’t have picked a better time to--”

Negan promptly turns on his heels and socks one of the Whisperer’s in the stomach; the man doubles over before sinking to his knees.

“Judith, get in the fucking house!” Negan shouts over the downpour and the rush of opponents. Despite Judith’s use as leverage, they seem more concerned with wrangling Negan, since he’s the able body more than capable of ripping them limb from limb—arguably more efficiently than a walker. Negan is brought to his knees fairly quickly, what with the sudden onset of grabbing hands and the slippery, muddy ground. As Judith slams the cabin door shut, Negan sees the Whisperer that he punched scrambling to go after her. Negan throws himself through a gap between two others and tackles the fucker at the knees.

Both men grunt in pain at the rough landing, and Negan continues to kick and grapple at four bastards in the mud. The rain gets in his eyes, and he can only see clearly whenever lightning streaks through the sky. He gets punched in the face, kicked in the ribs, and stabbed in the arm, but he doesn’t notice a goddamn thing. The adrenaline is pumping through him, but his new superpower is Giving A Fuck, and it’s taking him to new heights. The very concept of wanting to actually go to a place he calls _home_ and be with a grouchy, one-armed mayor makes him feel like Clark fucking Kent.

Negan plants his boot in one man’s mouth and he’s pretty sure he feels several teeth get knocked loose. Negan pulls out his knife and it makes itself at home in another man’s thigh. With two Whisperers falling to the wayside in pain, it’s easier for Negan to pull out Carl’s pistol and shove the barrel at their pseudo-leader’s stomach. The woman’s eyes don’t widen with fear, but rather, narrow with challenge. Negan isn’t impressed by her last display of what she probably thinks is courage. He waits until lightning flashes again, counts to three, and fires the gun as soon as thunder roars above them.

There is some more pointless slicing, punching, and choking, but it’s all just a blur to Negan. He doesn’t take as much pleasure in it as he should, and it’s all just white noise. It’s a task that has to be done so that he can get to Judith. Not to say that he gives the Whisperers quick and easy ends--because he certainly doesn’t--but he also doesn’t make it into a big festivity. He’s just...tired, to say the least. Caring about things really takes a lot out of you when you aren’t used to it.

By the time the work is done and Negan has re-holstered his knife and gun, he’s limping intemperately back to the cabin, drenched to the bone.

“Judith,” Negan clears his throat. His bottom lip is split, and he can’t stop tasting metal. “Judith, sweetheart, I gotcha,” Negan enters the cabin and leans against the door once he’s shut it. He lets his weight drag him to the ground, where he sits in a miserable puddle. Judith rushes towards him, tossing aside a rusty, metal rod that she’d grabbed as a makeshift weapon. Negan immediately loops an arm around her when she burrows into his side. With his other hand, he removes her gag.

“Negan,” She says quietly, no fear or trepidation in her voice. He was right about how one day, she’ll be stronger than everyone else. There’s isn’t so much as a pitiful tear tracking down her face. She just stares. “You came for me,” Judith whispers. Negan winces at the pain in his arm—just a graze of a knife, he’s sure. He then chuckles.

“Of course I did!” Negan stresses, though not raising his voice beyond a soft lull. He can’t guarantee that some walkers didn’t end up in the vicinity. “You ever need a damn thing, and I’m gonna be there, just like that,” Negan says, snapping his fingers. “And look at how fuckin’ tough you were, Miss Grimes. Your daddy is gonna be so proud of you.” Negan gently brushes a thumb around Judith’s bruised eye. It’s swelling steadily, but it won’t be the end of the world. “I know you shot one of those motherfuckers,” Negan praises, smiling despite the renewed blood at his lip.

“...Got him in the arm...I fucking missed,” Judith grumbles quietly, clearly put off that she didn’t do a very good job at defending her dad. Negan chuckles and she blinks at him. “...Don’t tell Dad I cursed.” Negan links his pinkie finger around her smaller one, leans his head back, and shuts his eyes.

“Sweetheart, I won’t tell a soul.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said the fic would be short but here I am, already at 10k words!! Shows what I know!!   
> Anyway, as usual, thank you all for reading thus far! I'm glad you're enjoying it. Comments and kudos really make my day, so ty ty


	6. Chapter 6

Rick groans as he slowly regains feeling in his hands; he struggles to open his eyes several times before they finally adjust to a dark room only lit by candles. Rick swallows past a dry throat and tries to sit up, only managing to prop himself up against pillows at an angle. The first face that he sees belongs to Carl, who looks relieved to see him moving.

“Dad, how’s your head?” Carl asks quietly, inching his chair closer to Rick’s bedside. Rick inhales deeply through his nose and reaches up to feel a bandage at his temple.

“Not that great,” Rick admits. There’s a dull throbbing that makes him want to go back to sleep and--

Realization dawns on Rick, and he bolts upward in bed, ignoring the sharp rush of pain behind his eyes.

“Judith! Is Judith alright?” He asks, leaning closer to Carl with a panicked expression. He briefly notices Carl fidgeting with a small notebook in his lap. Carl bites his lip, looks down at the notebook, then finally brings his eyes back up to meet Rick’s intense stare.

“I don’t know,” Carl tells him honestly. “I don’t know where she is.” The words sucker-punch Rick and he feels like he’s going to vomit. The room spins as he tries to shove his legs out from under the sheets, eager to stand and get away—get out somewhere closer to Judith. Carl insistently grabs Rick’s knee and keeps him from moving any further.

“We think a group of Whisperers took her. Michonne and a team are out investigating the area.” Carl is unnervingly calm and contained; Rick absently wonders if his son is holding it all together for his sake, but he can’t think rationally.

“Oh, my God, Carl. Carl, we have to go, I have to--” Rick’s eyes can’t focus. He sets a hand on top of Carl’s and tries to get up again but Carl grabs his arm and narrows his eyes.

“You’re not going to be much help, Dad. It’s one in the morning, and Tara says you shouldn’t be moving around.” Rick looks at his son with swimming eyes. His Adam’s apple shifts as he tries to form words and argue about what he _should_ be doing. He should be out with Michonne, looking for Judith; whether he’s blind, missing both legs, or doped up on medication—he vaguely recognizes that he probably already is on some sort of mild sedative.

“Carl, that’s not...I can’t just sit here!” Rick’s voice cracks. He drags his free hand over his face. “They could--” Rick doesn’t want to say ‘kill her.’ He doesn’t even want to acknowledge that possibility yet, since he feels close to blacking out again.

“Dad, I know. I _know_. I’m freaking out, too, I am,” Carl stresses, gesturing at himself. He looks exhausted. “But I wasn’t going to leave you with no explanation just to go look with Michonne. Not when I think someone’s going to find her.” Rick almost chuckles anxiously.

“What—what makes you sure? Do you have a lead?” Rick asks, desperate for more information. Carl pauses for a few seconds; it looks like he steels himself before answering.

“Negan went after her as soon as we got back to you.”

The room stops spinning, but the walls look fuzzy as Rick stares at his son. He almost feels as out of the loop as he did when he woke up in that Atlanta hospital years ago.

“...What?” Is the only thing that Rick can ask.

“Negan picked up their trail. I have to have faith that he’ll bring Judith back.”

“Faith...” Rick repeats tonelessly, “...In Negan.” Carl only nods once. Rick swallows, turns his head to look away, and nods to himself as he processes.

“...If you’re going to argue with the decision I made, I’d rather you do it now while you’re still drowsy from the meds,” Carl says. Rick can tell that he wants to be joking, but isn’t sure of what Rick’s reaction is going to be. Rick honestly wouldn’t be able to tell him what reaction he _wants_ to have. It feels like he has cotton wedged in the back of his mouth. He feels the sensation of pins and needles in his fingers.

“…You _sent_ him?” Rick asks, slowly looking back up at Carl. Carl’s eye stings; his dad looks worn down the bone, currently. “Why?”

Carl sucks his teeth in thought and flips his thumb through the pages of that notebook. It takes him another moment to answer.

“I think that Negan cares about her. And me. And...I just think he cares,” Carl shrugs a shoulder, “I think that, in that moment...I knew that Negan would make sure that the people that took her would end up dead. And I didn’t want imprisonment or negotiations, I just wanted Negan to do what he does best. And I knew that he wouldn’t run away or lie. He hasn’t done either of those things since we made him a prisoner.”

Rick can only stare as the bedside candle casts barely-flickering shadows on his son’s face. It makes his exposed eye socket all the more hollow.

“Is he even a prisoner anymore?” Rick asks quietly. He can hear crickets outside the bedroom window. Carl looks up at that and bites the inside of his cheek.

“...You tell me.”

“It’d be wrong to give him more freedoms than he already has,” Rick says as if he’s rehearsed it a thousand times. Carl’s eye twitches minutely.

“Why?” Carl asks. Rick balks somewhat, but it only feels like he’s going through the motions of an argument. It feels like he isn’t actually invested, and he blames that on the medication. The alternative isn't something he wants to acknowledge right now.

“You think he should just walk the streets whenever he wants? The Saviors aren’t our biggest fans as is, how do you think they’d take that? Or what about Glenn? Or Abraham?”

“ _You_ said we could be good, Dad. _I’m_ saying we could be better. He’s not doing much for any of us in the watch tower, and he’ll be doing less for us if we put him back in the cell. How long is it going to go on? How long is everybody _supposed_ to hate him? What arbitrary time limit did we set, and did I miss that decision at one of the group meetings? Aren’t we at _some_ point going to wake up and say, ‘hey, maybe I just won’t hate Negan’s guts today?’ Why put that off?” Carl rises to his feet and tilts his head from side to side, trying to work out the stiffness that’s developed in his neck. He doesn’t sound angry or fed up—just tired.

“I’m not his biggest fan,” Carl sighs, “I’m not always going to go up to bat for him. But right now, I just think that somebody should. And I don’t think you hate him, either, I just think that you’re too used to acting like you do.” Carl tosses the journal he was holding onto Rick’s comforter and nods his head at it. “The least I can say is that Judith’s never hated him at all.” Carl drags a hand back through his hair and heads toward the bedroom door.

“I’ll check on you later. Try to get some rest.”

The bedroom door clicks shut, and Rick’s headache eases up slightly once he smooths out the crease of tension in his brow. His eyes are heavy and painful, but he can’t sleep. All he can think of is Judith and the man that apparently wants to bring her home. When Rick looks out the window, he sees lightning flash beyond the trees.

–

Negan has peeled off as much clothing as he can afford to. Jacket, jeans, boots, and socks. They all need to dry as much as possible, since limping back to Alexandria in drenched socks sounds like the actual fucking worst. The storm continues to ebb and flow outside their little shack, and Negan has managed to find some moth-bitten blankets to stretch out on the shabby floorboards. Judith sits with her back pressed against his side and her legs pulled up so she can hug her knees.

Their temporary hiding spot didn’t come with any sweet amenities or medical supplies, so Negan soldiers through the burning arm, the black eye, the split lip, and the bad ankle. At least they have several excuses to not go roaming around again until sunrise; it gives him some reprieve. He’s also thankful that it’s still the middle of Summer, so they’re not exactly at risk of freezing to death.

“I know you’re still awake, little lady,” Negan’s voice is a gentle rumble.

“I can’t go to sleep...” Judith confesses, shifting and resting her head against Negan’s arm. Negan sighs through his nose.

“Yeah, that makes sense,” he concedes. “You’ve had quite the adventure today.”

“...I had fun this morning. I liked being with you, Carl, and Dad.” Negan smiles at that, looking up at a small, leaking crack in the nearest window.

“I can’t think of a better way to spend my time, Judy.”

“How come we can’t visit you more often? Is Dad angry at you?” Judith asks. Her voice is so soft and confused, it takes to Negan’s remaining willpower with a hammer. Negan drums his fingers on his knee.

“Me and your dad don’t always get along so well, sweetheart. You’re too smart to think that he put me in jail for no reason. I did some bad things; things I’m not sure that I can ever make right. But don’t you worry about old Negan. I knew what I was getting into when I got out of my cell.”

“It’s not fair; nobody ever tells me what you did.” Negan can tell that Judith’s speech is muffled—she’s speaking into her folded arms, probably pouting. It’d be endearing if the topic weren’t so fucked up.

“I...” Negan doesn’t want to continue, but he does, “I hurt some people, Judith. I think I hurt a lot of people.” Negan can feel her shift and turn, and when he looks down, he sees her with her neck craned around. Her eyes are wide and visible, even in the dark.

“Did you kill people?” She asks, not scared, but curious. Death isn’t a new concept to her.

“Yeah, I did,” Negan nods.

“We kill people,” Judith adds. Hence the confusion. “...You killed bad people today.”

“The people I killed weren’t always bad. I didn’t help anybody, even though I acted like I did. I wasn’t a good man like your daddy.” 

“But I think you’re good now,” Judith tells him, and if he weren’t a tough as nails motherfucker, he would tear up right then and there.

Is he good now? Is that how it works? Is he as good as goody-fucking-two-shoes Rick Grimes? How many little old ladies does he have to help cross the street before he gets his official Good Person badge? How many kittens does he have to save from trees? It’s naive to think that there’s some meter hanging over his head that’s measuring whether or not he’s a complete and total dick. He can’t get his hopes up and trick himself into thinking that a certain amount of Alexandria community service will stop people from glaring at him.

And it isn’t just about convincing other people that he no longer means them any harm; it’s about his personal fucking fool’s errand—to try and make himself believe that he doesn’t fucking _suck_ anymore. Every time he talks about his old life, or his wife, or his ‘good’ intentions, it just comes out like a ‘woe is me’ sob story. Nobody wants to hear that shit, and nobody should have to.

It doesn’t matter if he joins the Parent Teacher Association, and it doesn’t matter if he bakes cookies for the upcoming Summer festival. It doesn’t matter if he builds Rick an accessibility ramp to his house, and it doesn’t matter if he helps Judith with her math homework. He will _never_ be able to detach himself from the things that he’s done. And as much as he can apologize up and down and actually _mean it_ , he won’t get a free reset pass. Do not pass Go, do not collect two-hundred dollars.

Not that Negan feels sorry for himself about any of it. If there’s one thing he can’t stand, it’s self-flagellation born of fucking pity. He owns it; he owns everything that he’s put the Grimes’ extended family through. The only thing he can _do_ without losing that last, sweet drop of Rick Grimes Trust is continue to behave according to example. To just fucking...nut up and keep doing whatever it is that’s needed.

Judith seems to notice that he’s gone quiet.

“Did I say something wrong?” She asks. Negan blinks down at her almost comically before grinning. He sets a hand on top of her head.

“What? No way, Judy. Hell,” Negan huffs a little laugh, “I just think that’s the first time anyone’s ever said that about me.” Negan pauses again. “Truth be told, kiddo, I don’t know if I’m ever gonna be a _great_ person. But cross my fuckin’ heart and swear to die, I’m gonna do right by your dad. That’s what matters to me.”

“Why?” Judith asks, clearly becoming tired. She stifles a yawn and her eyes blink slowly. She curls as close as she can to Negan’s side. Negan closes his eyes and leans back against the cabin wall, resting his head.

“Rick is the best of all of us, sweetheart. He showed me all kinds of shit that I didn’t think was possible.” Rick makes people believe that they can be better and do better. Rick gives you chances when others think you don’t deserve them. Rick fortifies and expands where others would sequester all of their shit away and ignore the rest of the world. Rick sucks it up and offers a handshake to the people that spit at him. Rick is so much better than anyone really deserves, and Negan covets that beautiful Grimes spark; he wants to keep it to himself, even though he knows that Rick would want his passion to be shared with everyone, always.

Negan swears that one day, people are going to worship Rick fucking Grimes. They’re gonna build fuckin’ statues of him, sure, but Negan will have the privilege of saying, ‘I was there first.’ He’s gonna worship him, too—like a fucking god. Not that he really believes in God.

But he does believe in Rick Grimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pining negan with undertones of possessive, clingy Weirdness is my exact cup of tea.
> 
> as usual, thank you all for reading, leaving kudos, and commenting! i appreciate your sweet compliments ;A;


	7. Chapter 7

Rick has been unable to sleep despite how bone-tired the sedatives have made him. All he can think of is Judith. He worries about whether or not the family has trained her well enough to handle enemies that aren’t walkers. He wonders if she’s been able to put up any sort of fight or run away from her captors altogether. He’s teared up multiple times throughout the night; all of his stresses compiling into a knot in his throat. Alexandria’s development, the well-being of others, the potential of more wayward Whisperers...Negan.

The notebook that Carl left with him belongs to Judith. By candlelight, he’s been able to flip through it and run his thumbs over her crooked yet neat handwriting. Some small drawings have been interspersed throughout the pages with crayon. In spite of his anxiety, all of her passages and brief ramblings have made him smile. Apparently, she’s been keeping this little diary for about a year, careful not to fill it up too quickly, but also eager to fill it with important happenings.

Carl and Daryl taking her fishing, Carol stopping by to tell her about the Kingdom, Michonne teaching her how to patch up torn sleeves and hem pants. The pages go on like this until Rick’s gut begins to twist at the sudden introduction of Negan. It’s information that he has to process slowly and with a good amount of patience. There are a couple of times where he has to keep from getting up to find Carl, just to start another relatively pointless argument. He has to go through the motions and understand that he’d have nothing to be upset about if Carl hadn’t _chosen_ to give him the notebook.

This is a secret that his kids have kept from him very efficiently, and he supposes that to a point, he can’t fault them for it.

‘Today, Carl and I went to visit Mr. Negan again. He beat me at checkers. Next time I’ll win for sure.’

‘I got to see Mr. Negan today. I made flower bracelets for Uncle Jesus and Uncle Daryl. I gave an extra bracelet to Mr. Negan. He said he really liked it.’

‘Carl says we still can’t tell Dad that we’re friends with Mr. Negan. I wish he could come to town dinners with us.’

The sun is just barely lighting up the town at this point; the candles are no longer necessary. Rick continues to sit in bed with the notebook in his lap. He rubs at his beard, drained and thoughtful.

He still doesn’t have all the answers. He doesn’t know how to be fair to Carl, Judith, and Negan without being unfair to Maggie, Abraham, and Aaron. But he _does_ have to acknowledge that he _wants_ to be fair to Negan. He’s wanted to build that fairness since Negan brought him Alpha’s head like a cat proudly gifting its owner a gutted mouse.

It’s just been difficult to adjust to—the idea of wanting Negan anywhere other than inside a jail cell. It’s been even harder to look inside himself and recognize it for what it is; an opportunity for growth and change. A very tentative handshake. The possibility that Negan has come to terms with what he did, and isn’t proud of it any longer. The idea that maybe, in some capacity, Rick and Alexandria’s very nature have gotten through to him.

The fear has been that it would only take one split second for Negan to take exploit Rick letting his guard down. The paranoia has been strong for several months, since Negan has far more opportunities to exact vengeance now that he’s been stationed at the watch tower.

But Carl has just been...right. Rick can’t, with total confidence, say that Negan would hurt Judith. He also can’t say that the Alpha incident was actually a back-handed strategy for something manipulative. He _also_ can’t say for certain that Negan still has the energy or the drive for making them all miserable.

Negan is just...here now. He exists in Rick’s orbit, and doesn’t seem to want to _leave_ it. He’s seemingly eager to contribute to Rick’s bigger picture, and it’s just unfamiliar. Rick would have adored this willingness to change a few years ago, before they passed the point of no return, and Rick sliced his throat open, but…

He can’t change the things that Negan did and didn’t do. He can only swallow his pride and look Negan in the eye, and say, ‘Yes, I can see that you’re trying.’ He feels as if this is something he should do, whether or not Glenn and the others agree with him.

–

“What do you say, Judy? You think Rick could whip us up some breakfast? I could kill a motherfucker for some scrambled eggs,” Negan carries on his conversation with Judith as they slowly make their way back onto the road—they’re not far from the place where they were ambushed.

“I want bacon,” Judith adds. Negan laughs.

“You have good taste.”

They’ve been walking since sunrise, but the pace has been fairly slow. Negan’s ankle and ribs aren’t doing him any favors, but Judith doesn’t seem to mind. She expresses no desire to dash off ahead to get home quicker; she wants to see him get back in one piece, even though Negan’s sure that she’s hungry. It’s a sweet gesture, but Negan does want to get her home before noon. Her eye needs to be looked at, and her clothes are filthy.

It’s a sight for sore eyes, then, when two horses come cantering down the pavement. Michonne and Aaron pull up to greet them, and relief seems to outweigh suspicion in their eyes.

“Judith!” Michonne exclaims, getting off her horse and quickly enveloping the girl in her arms. She presses a kiss to Judith’s forehead, and worry disappears from her face completely. “I’m so glad you’re okay.” Michonne pulls back to get a good look at Judith and lightly presses her thumb underneath her bruised eye. Judith winces but doesn’t stop smiling.

“You were looking for me?” Judith asks. Michonne smiles, her eyes welling up with tears.

“We all were,” At this, she turns to look up at Aaron. “You should go and round up the other teams; let them know we found her.” Aaron nods at her, content even though his eyes flicker briefly to Negan. Without anymore input, he snaps his reins and takes off back down the road.

“Negan found me,” Judith says to Michonne. Michonne glances over the top of her head to see Negan; he gives her a little wave.

“...I see that,” Michonne says slowly, standing up to full height again. She takes Judith by the waist and sets her up in her mare’s saddle. “Did you hide from the Whisperers?” Judith seems somewhat embarrassed but tells her the truth.

“No. But Negan killed them.” Her casual attitude leads Michonne to believe that she’s telling the truth. Michonne gets up on her horse and looks down at Negan, who smiles, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Funny. Carl told me that might be the case,” Michonne tugs on her mare’s reins and begins the trip back to Alexandria. Negan has no idea how she manages to make such innocuous statements sound like death threats. Negan tosses his hands up and continues to limp.

“What, not even a ‘good fucking morning, Negan?’” He asks Michonne’s back.

“Good fucking morning, Negan,” She deadpans without even looking over her shoulder. Negan’s always liked her.

–

As soon as Rick hears vague commotion from the front porch, he’s yanking himself away from the bathroom mirror and racing out into the front yard. His head pounds but he ignores the pain, and he almost runs into Carl, who was apparently on his way to come fetch him. Carl has a humongous, relieved grin on his face.

“They’re back!” Carl says as soon as Rick sets eyes on Michonne gently helping Judith out of her saddle. A dam bursts and Rick begins to cry, racing over to his daughter and gathering her tightly in his arms. Carl sidles up as well and crouches to Judith’s level. Rick vaguely hears Michonne dismiss herself, but all he can do is take in the sight of Judith, who looks healthy and uninjured aside from a banged up eye.

“I missed you, Dad,” Judith tells him, smiling. Rick wipes at his face and clears his throat. He plants a kiss to her forehead before rising to his feet and taking her hand. He walks her to the porch steps as she and Carl exchange words that he doesn’t quite hear—it’s momentarily white noise as he registers the fact that he’s been watched. Rick pauses on the steps, and Carl and Judith stop chattering when they notice him noticing Negan.

Negan stands in the middle of the yard with a lump in his throat. He feels like shit, and he probably looks like it, too. But watching Rick see his baby girl and take her hand has made him feel like a million bucks. It’s also made him feel like he’s plummeted off the edge of the cliff; head over ass over heels for Rick Grimes.

When Rick notices him, he nods—God forbid—sheepishly. He’ll just be heading back to his home sweet home of a watch tower to lick his wounds. It’ll be back to square one of Rick tolerating him at best. Back to too-quick visits with the kids. But it’s not like he should be linking Judith’s safety with Rick’s feelings towards him. He did the right thing by helping Judith, and he would do it again in a heartbeat, because he really does love her. Rick doesn’t owe him a goddamn thing, and that’s the way it’s always been. Just seeing him smile makes Negan’s heart feel like molasses, so he’s going to let that feeling carry him for the months to come.

Negan turns to walk away, and he damn near stumbles when he hears Rick speak.

“Do you wanna come in?” Rick asks. Negan must be in heaven. He turns around on one heel, as smoothly as he can, and spreads his arms with feigned casualness.

“Aw, Rick, I thought you’d never ask! Judith was just talking about how you could make some mean scrambled eggs,” Negan bolsters. Rick raises one eyebrow and Negan _swears_ the corner of his mouth twitches upwards. But Rick says nothing, jerks his head toward the front door, and heads into the house with his children.

It’s not like Negan’s never been inside the Grimes’ house before; he used to make himself at home like a nuisance, but it’s changed over the years. It feels genuinely lived in and loved—he can tell by Judy’s shoes messily tossed to the side in the doorway. He can tell by her drawings hanging up on the walls, and some of Carl’s early wood carvings resting on random shelves. There’s a strong spike of _want_ within Negan’s stomach. He reminds himself not to claw too desperately for shit he can’t have.

“Dad, how about I get started on some toast. I know you still don’t feel that great,” Carl offers with a polite, reserved smile. He hefts Judith onto a stool and she swings her feet back and forth at the kitchen island as if she hadn’t been nabbed by freaks in skins a few hours prior. Rick gives Carl a grateful nod before ducking back into the entry hall. Negan had been too hesitant to really cross the kitchen threshold. There’s a moment where Rick eyes him up and down, and Negan prides himself on the fact that he doesn’t turn red under scrutiny.

“Take a seat on the couch,” Rick says, gesturing to the open living room, “I’ll take a look at your arm.” Negan hits the panic button. Cue fake grin.

“Nah, Rick, it’s barely a fuckin’ paper cut. Don’t trouble yourself,” He insists. Rick isn’t convinced.

“I said, I’ll take a look at your arm,” Rick smiles politely before heading down the hallway. Negan swallows. Who is he to argue with _that_? Negan musters up the strength to sit on the edge of the sofa and he tries to keep from gaping at his surroundings. Judith has some toys and boxes of puzzles tucked away in the corner of the room. There’s a bookshelf with a collection of books that’s apparently still growing. A desk sits beneath the main window, covered in papers and maps. Above the fireplace mantle are a few framed pictures; mostly drawings of people that Negan doesn’t recognize. Though he does think that one of charcoal etchings might be of Rick's late wife.

When Rick enters the room with a medical kit, Negan tries for a blasé attitude. He can’t help but feel that he falls short. Years ago, he would have taken up most of the space on the sofa, spreading his legs and leering. Now, he can only drum his fingers on his knees and smirk at Rick.

“Dr. Grimes, is it time for my checkup?” Negan arches his eyebrows. Rick huffs once and shakes his head, taking a seat beside him. He opens the medical kit and rolls up Negan’s battered sleeve. Not that his arm is better than he thought; it’s actually starting to swell with the redness of infection, but Dr. Grimes is on the case.

Negan is used to talking to fill silence, so he isn’t sure what to do with himself when he can only hiss as Rick dabs at the knife wound with disinfectant. Countdown to self-destruction. Three, two...

“Rick, man, I appreciate it, but you don’t owe me a damn thing--” Rick cuts him off.

“I owe you everything,” Rick says seriously, making eye contact with Negan. “You saved my little girl. You brought her home. So you name your reward, I’ll see if I can make it happen.”

Negan can’t believe his ears.

“I didn’t do it for a reward,” Negan lowers his voice. Rick’s eyes flicker to his face again, and Negan can tell that he’s looking for a lie. Rick hides his surprise when he doesn’t find one. “Rick, we ain’t never gonna be even for all the shit that I did. It’s not about debt to me.” Negan doesn’t realize that his face is wet until Rick stops messing with his arm completely. Rick watches him with an indiscernible expression as he sets down the cotton swab.

“Shit, shit,” Negan curses, wiping at his face. “Fuckin’ pollen this time of year, am I fuckin’ right?” Not that it’s even Spring. Negan feels like a pathetic weasel, especially with the old wife's charcoal eyes staring at him in the middle of Rick Grimes’ fucking living room.

“If I’d met this Negan to begin with, I think I would have gotten along with him,” Rick confesses softly, and Negan can’t trust his hearing. Negan covers his mouth with his palm and chokes back the sob that threatens to break past his throat.

“Hindsight’s a bitch,” Negan jokes weakly. Rick smiles, sympathetic, and returns to fixing up Negan’s arm.

“Yeah, she’s the worst.”

–

Rick plays medic all morning, and surprisingly, his headache subsides. He puts ointment on Judith’s eye and bandages Negan’s arm and ankle. The four of them share breakfast at the island, and for once, Rick hasn't felt like it’d be wrong to laugh at Negan’s jokes.

It actually feels somewhat freeing to laugh without reservation. And it felt good to watch Negan relish in cooked ham and fresh apple juice. Rick and Carl learned about Judith’s kidnapping scare, and Rick was somewhat relieved when she didn’t think that the gritty details were important. She was scared, they took her to a cabin, Negan showed up like a fairy tale hero, and he killed all the bad guys. Also, it rained.

She doesn’t seem completely unaffected by the event, but Rick also doesn’t want to jump on it as an excuse to keep her from ever leaving the house again. They’ll just have to work with her more on self-defense.

Regardless, there’s a weird twist in his stomach that pulls him back into the living room once the kitchen’s clean. Carl’s taken Judith out for a walk to meet with everyone that was worried about her. It’d do her some good to spend time with the others. But Negan has yet to leave.

When Rick enters the living room, he sees Negan poking curiously at his work desk. Negan looks up at his entrance.

“You’ve got some impressive notes here, Hot Fuzz. More systematic bullshit than I ever cared to bother with back at Sanctuary. But it suits you.” Negan grins slightly and lets his eyes drop back to the desktop maps.

“It’s not just me; it’s a team effort. These blueprints come together because everyone has a different perspective,” says Rick. Everyone is valuable to Rick. Apparently this includes Negan, even if he is just a mad dog on a leash. “You know I wouldn’t have asked for your opinions if I didn’t actually want them, right?” Rick asks. He’s referring to back when Negan was in a jail cell; back when he’d vent to him about the trials and tribulations of leadership.

“Aw, Rick, I would’ve given you my opinions even if you _didn’t_ ask,” Negan smirks. Rick chuckles and meanders over to the desk. “It’s not my fault that I have a goldmine of wisdom to offer.”

“’Wise’ ain’t a word I’d use for you,” Rick says. Negan’s eyebrows shoot up. His smile just won’t disappear.

“Would you use ‘handsome?’” Negan dares. Rick hums, but Negan can’t tell what that’s supposed to mean.

“I think I’d use ‘resilient.’”

Well, that throws Negan for a motherfucking loop. What the fuck’s he supposed to say to that? It takes him a second to respond.

“...Resilient, huh? Guess you would know all about that,” Negan muses, leaning back against the work desk. He’s shell-shocked once again when he looks over at Rick, only to find him holding back tears. Rick’s fists are clenched at his sides. His shoulders tremble minutely. They’re just a real fuckin’ pair today, aren’t they? Negan’s just about to ask what’s wrong when Rick speaks.

“It still feels like I shouldn’t be doing this,” Rick says, swallowing hard and looking out the window. “Feels like I ain’t supposed to let myself do anything but hate you.”

“I...Rick, you can hate me till the cows come home, if it makes shit easier on you,” says Negan. Rick blinks and wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand.

“I just don’t think I do anymore,” Rick says, turning his head to look at Negan. There’s a beat.

“For what it’s worth...I’ve never hated you,” Negan admits, barely above a whisper. Rick nods.

“I know.”

Negan isn’t sure how it happens, but they gravitate towards each other. It doesn’t even seem like either of them moves; Negan just blinks, and suddenly, Rick is an inch away from him. When Negan takes a deep breath, the fabric of his shirt brushes against Rick’s.

“This ain’t going anywhere ever again if you can’t tell me that you care about our people,” Rick speaks so quietly that Negan’s afraid he won’t hear him. Negan has to tilt his head down to maintain eye contact. He can barely smell shampoo in Rick’s short hair. He misses when it was longer and curly.

“I’ll keep watch in that tower till I die,” Negan whispers, his eyes now hooded with dazed interest.

“You care about Judith,” Rick doesn’t ask.

“She’s a golden ray of sunshine.”

“And Carl?”

“You know I love that kid.”

Rick looks up into Negan’s eyes, and he looks just about as magnetized as Negan feels.

“What would you do for me?” Rick asks, his fingers catching at Negan’s belt.

“Rick Grimes, I would _bleed_ for you,” Negan hisses dangerously, grabbing hold of Rick’s waist, afraid that he’ll slip away. Afraid that he’ll never get a taste of this after today. Afraid that he actually died back in that cabin, and that this is all a dream. “You just say the fuckin’ _word_ ,” Negan presses his forehead against Rick’s. Their noses rub together.

Rick frames Negan’s face with his hand and kisses him, and Negan could just about _die_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Negan: i think im horny...but like in my heart??  
> Carl: i think that's called having feelings
> 
> thank you guys for the comments and kudos!! they're always appreciated. hope you guys enjoy borderline-unhealthily devoted negan as much as i do!


	8. Chapter 8

“You’re such a dick,” Glenn says with no preamble, joining Negan at his post. Negan turns from the railing and blinks.

“Is that just a blanket statement, or did I do something specific today?” Negan asks. He’s currently ‘monitoring the perimeter’ from his old watchtower, which he doesn’t live in anymore—thank Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Not that he thinks the perimeter needs ‘monitoring’ anymore, but he does agree with Rick that complacency makes way for error, and Negan hates errors as much as the next guy. At the very least, watchtower duty gives him some time to think; gives him some peace and fucking quiet before he’s tossed back into the Alexandrian fray.

“Just a helpful reminder,” Glenn supplies. He pulls his scarf tighter around his throat. Winter is approaching quickly, and she can be a harsh bitch nowadays, but at least Negan and his people have proper housing and stables. The entire town has become a work of art, and Rick’s efforts are evident in every nook and cranny. So much so that Maggie and Glenn are currently visiting in order to trade some supplies.

Glenn looks good—no thanks to Negan. He’s long since joined Carl in the Eyepatch Club, and you would think that the additional deaf ear would make his left side a hindrance, but Glenn never so much as complains. Even if he still isn’t waving a foam fucking finger for Negan.

“Whew, thanks. Wouldn’t want my head to get too big. I can always count on you to make sure I’m not deep-frying toddlers. Or jay-walking.” Negan makes a show of wiping his brow with the back of his gloved hand, relieved with melodrama. Glenn’s mouth turns into a wry grin, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. In fact, they narrow.

“I could tip you over the railing. Say you slipped,” He says casually. Negan scratches at his beard, which is more salt than pepper now.

“Yeah, but you won’t,” Negan says, matter-of-factly. “It’d make Judith mighty upset.”

“I think that was your whole plan all along. Just get close to Judith so nobody could stay mad at you with good conscience,” Glenn accuses mildly, folding his arms across his chest.

“Mr. Rhee, as much as I love our rare chats—I treasure them, don’t get me wrong—mind if I ask why you’re paying me a visit?” Negan asks.

A pause follows; a lengthy one in which Glenn stares out at the scenery. It’s bluer than usual, what with all of the trees barren for the season. The grass is gone and the gray clouds hang low. Times like this used to remind Negan of Lucille. They used to go to Christmas tree farms and pick out some pitiful looking pine that they knew no other family would give some TLC to. They’d decorate it with lights and corny ornaments from a department store.

Though Negan still misses her, the pang isn’t as strong in his ribs. Last year’s Christmas was tentative and somewhat awkward, with Rick still hanging onto the idea that he can’t be normal and talk to Negan at the same time. Now? Negan has his hopes up; he knows Judy wants to make strings of popcorn. He knows Carl would be open to carving some wooden ornaments. He knows he wants to find some fuckin’ mistletoe just so he can dip Mayor Grimes at the waist and get his teeth into that chapped lower lip--

“Maggie said you could come to Hilltop this year,” Glenn’s voice cuts through the static in Negan’s head.

“Fuckin’ pardon me?” Negan blinks again. Glenn shrugs one shoulder.

“For the holidays. When Rick and the kids visit,” Glenn pauses and levels Negan with another ball-busting look. “ _Just_ for the holidays.”

“I won’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Tell Mrs. Rhee I send my thanks!” Negan would tell her himself, but he doesn’t want to be kneed in the dick before the month is over. Glenn grunts an affirmative.

“You’re not still trying to get her to like you, are you? It’s never gonna happen,” Glenn tells him. Negan occupies himself by rubbing at a stiff shoulder. Christ, he’s older than Rick, but he has no reason to show it. His poor Mayor has a shitty knee that only gets shittier in the cold months (good job, Negan), and a blank space where a hand should be. Not to mention a touchy back from endless gardening, a couple toes that never healed properly, and an old gunshot wound that twinges when he’s too stressed (which is all the goddamn time).

“Truth be told, I think all of the minds have been made up. People either like me or they hate me, and it’s all well and good either way. It’s not my job to sit up here and be liked—that’s not what Rick told me to do. I’m up here keepin’ a look out because it keeps people safe. So if Mrs. Rhee would still rather have me back in a cell, it’s no skin off my nose. I’m just doing what needs to be done to make her life easier.” And to make Rick’s life easier. But that’s the unspoken promise that’s nestled beneath everything that he does now.

“...Good answer,” Glenn huffs with a smirk. Negan gives him a cat-like grin before slinking off toward the tower ladder.

“I’m nothing if not a fuckin’ people pleaser. Now if you’ll excuse me, I told Judy I’d be home in time to make dinner.”

If that makes him domesticated, then so be it. Negan isn’t too proud to wear an apron that says ‘kiss the cook.’ Or help Judith do her laundry. Carl can eat his words; domestication fucking rules.

There are several people that wave to Negan as he makes his way back home, and he counts that as motherfucking _progress_ , thank you very much. They’ve had some newcomers in the past few months that have heard tell of Negan’s past exploits, but without some gnarly visuals and questionable trauma to pair with his handsome mug, they don’t really view him as an outlier. It is somewhat refreshing—to have people that look at Negan and associate him with the core of Alexandria, rather than the barely-tolerable thorn in its side. As far as the newbies are concerned, he’s one of the head honchos sitting at the Cool Kids Table, and they need an invitation from him, personally, before they can even _think_ about taking a seat.

Negan can’t help but sigh a little once he crosses the threshold of the Grimes’ home—his home. His day has gone fairly well, and he certainly wouldn’t let Rick catch him acting tired, but there’s something rejuvenating about being in the house that he shares with the Grimes trio.

One day it just _clicked_ —the concept of Negan actually living here with them. Of this being his _home_. He’d come through the front door one afternoon, only to find an empty space where his boots should be, and an empty hook where his coat should hang. It was surreal to think that the Grimes’ had carved out a space for _him_ ; that they’d gone out of their way to allow someone else into their tight-knit, invitation-only circle. It had turned Negan’s world on its axis, and he isn’t sure that he’s ever recovered.

Negan kicks his boots into the space beside Carl’s sneakers and smiles at Judith’s family drawing pinned to the cork board in the entryway (Me, Daddy, Carl, Uncle Negan). He then heads into the kitchen, where he’s surprised to find Rick. As far as Negan knew, he wasn’t supposed to be home until an hour after Negan’s watch shift. But again; gift horses and mouths.

Negan’s smile is wide as he immediately crowds Rick against the island. Rick snorts and sets down his cup of water down before Negan’s bulk threatens to make him spill it.

“Clingy. Co-dependent,” Rick tells him, shoving his hand over Negan’s mouth before he can kiss his jaw.

“Stockholm Syndrome,” Negan mumbles behind Rick’s palm. Rick laughs at that outright, and it’s the best thing Negan’s heard since the last time he heard Rick laugh.

They never say that they love each other. Negan’s unsure as to whether or not that will happen at some point. Personally, he doesn’t feel like he needs to say that bullshit. He lives and _breathes_ Rick fucking Grimes. He reads from the Rick Grimes holy book every night before he sleeps. He gets on his knees and worships at that altar. Double fucking entendre. Rick knows that he has a big, mean, son-of-a-bitch wrapped around his finger, and Negan’s not naive enough to think that Rick doesn’t take advantage of it. Negan is _more_ than fucking okay with that.

Rick shoves his fingers in Negan’s mouth and Negan thinks he could go a week without food. Rick asks him to take a bullet for him? Negan is there with bells on.

Not that Negan doesn’t feel loved in return; there’s no way that Rick would keep him in his house with his fuckin’ kids if he didn’t love him. Negan just thinks that the verbal declarations are tied with the residual pride that Rick still carries around in a holster. There’s too much between them for Rick to say it first, no matter how he feels. Unstoppable force meets immovable object. They’ll both keep chomping at the bit until something gives. One of these days.

Or maybe never. Negan is fine with never if that means he still gets to help Judy with her homework, go on supply runs with Carl, and kiss Rick until his teeth can’t take it anymore.

“I need something from you,” Rick says suddenly, eyes not straying from Negan’s. His voice goes straight to Negan’s dick, and he almost says as much.

“You say the word,” Negan replies easily, nipping at the edge of Rick’s forefinger. Rick huffs, a fond smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Being _needed_ is familiar to Negan now, and it makes him feel warm. He told Rick that he’d do anything for him—for _this_ —back when he found Judith, and it’s never even dawned on him to think otherwise.

“I ran into a guy,” Rick says, tone low. Negan makes a possessive sound in his throat but he doesn’t mean much by it. He doubles down into Rick’s space and tilts his head down. He cups one of Rick’s hands between both of his.

“Not as handsome as I am,” Negan mutters, still listening. Rick goes back to fighting against his own amusement. With his prosthetic, he jabs Negan in the side.

“Pay attention,” He scolds. Negan clucks his tongue in a bratty fashion. Rick’s tone becomes a bit more serious. “Out beyond the gate. Yesterday when I was going for a walk.” Negan perks up, ready to reprimand him and be an insufferable nanny. Rick sees it coming and cuts him off with another mild jab to the ribs. “It wasn’t a big deal. He ran off before I could really ask anything.” Negan is sensing a ‘but.’ It isn’t hard to put two and two together.

“Motherfuckers don’t just take strolls through our territories. Too many patrols. Vultures steer clear of that shit,” Negan says, eyes narrowing. Rick simply nods.

“Which makes me think he wasn’t a loner that stumbled into some populace on accident.”

“...Mmmm,” Negan considers this. He brings Rick’s palm back up to his mouth and lets his teeth brush against his skin as he speaks. “Want me to take care of it?” Negan doesn’t break eye contact.

“...Can you go on a hunting trip?” Rick asks. An innocent question to any bystander. Negan’s eyes glimmer and he nods. He’s from Alexandria, and better yet, he belongs to the Grimes family. Which means that sometimes he has to get his hands dirty.

“I won’t be gone longer than a few days,” Negan tells him.

“We’ll miss you,” says Rick.

Negan’s eyes flutter closed and he exhales shakily. Rick leans up to kiss him. Negan isn’t sure that he deserves the euphoria, but he’ll ride the high until his borrowed time runs out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the wait, everyone!! Between work and artist alley gigs, I've been pretty caught up in other tasks! Thank you for your patience omg  
> Also apologies if this fic didn't turn out to be quite as long as the tone/plot suggested; I initially started with the goal of keeping it under ten chapters, since rescuing Judith and tweaking Negan's redemption were the main things that I wanted to tackle. I had to workshop this ending a couple of times, but I think I like how it turned out! I didn't want to go overboard, and the main visual that I liked was Negan just being so fucking stupid for Rick, and Rick being the main man in power after all that's happened--even in canon, it's kind of like that haha
> 
> Thanks again for your kind comments and kudos!! I really appreciated all of them.


End file.
